


Hannibal ante Portas

by sonderland



Category: American Gods (TV), American Gods - Neil Gaiman, Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, FullerFeast 2018, Gen, M/M, Mid-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-27 15:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15027413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonderland/pseuds/sonderland
Summary: Mr. Wednesday looks to recruit a powerful ally; Hannibal comes to America.





	Hannibal ante Portas

"I swear," said Mr. Wednesday, "When it snows in this country, people forget how to drive."

Shadow was sure it was true. It was slow going, in the Baltimore winter. The cold was blowing from off of the water and filling the streets and the windshields with icy damp.

Still, they were coming up on their destination. Shadow knew little enough about their host; he was an old friend of Wednesday's, they were there to recruit him. Standard and regular, as far as he was concerned.

There were a few other cars already pulled up at the house. Each was expensive, and, Shadow suspected, often chauffeured.

"We have a little time to get comfortable. He does like to make an entrance."

**_***_ **

**_Coming to America_ **

_"Mischa," her mother scolded, "eat your vegetables."_

_"I won't."_

_"You can't leave the table until you finish."_

_"Good. I'll stay up all night."_

_Her father leaned over, with his storytelling smile. "But then, little Mischka, you'll meet the Baubas."_

_"The Baubas?"_

_"Oh, yes. Don't you know what happens to bad little girls?"_

_Mischa shook her head._

_"The Baubas will eat you up."_

 

 

 

***

Wednesday had fallen into talking with a crowd of socialites. Shadow had heard that Dr. Lecter had an extensive private library, and went to find it.

There was a girl there. She had a bandage covering her ear. She froze when she saw Shadow, like a deer in headlights.

"Don't tell Will I'm here," she said. "He can't know yet."

Shadow did not know who Will was. "Okay," he said. "Why are you here?"

"I ran out of books."

"Oh."

The girl made no move to leave.

"I'm gonna go."

The girl nodded. Shadow left.

 

***

_The two men Mischa did not know spoke mostly in a language she did not understand. She heard the words "volunteers" and "deserters," though she was not sure what they meant._

_In the night she would cry that the Baubas was coming to eat her. She could see his red eyes in the dark, peering at her from under the rug. His bony fingers tugged at her hair._

 

***

The kitchen had been cleared of much of the evidence of cookery, and was free of guests and staff. Shadow cut through there to get back to the party. As he passed through the half-dark room, he heard rustlings, a low hum of amusement. He smelled blood.

There were two men barely visible inside the pantry; the door was only slightly ajar. The taller man had his back to Shadow, and was laving attention onto the neck of a man whose face was not quite visible.

The shorter man made a shooing motion over the taller man's shoulder. Shadow made a hasty exit.

 

***

_Mischa's small body fell, her blood spilling over the cold concrete. The monster she had carried in her head drank it, the blood of this first sacrifice tying him to the land forever._

_The blood was as warm and nourishing as could be desired, but the Baubas took no joy in it. He could only be sated by the blood of the wicked._

 

***

"Hannibal," Mr. Wednesday chuckled. "Did you ever hear of Hannibal Barca, Shadow?"

"I've read about him. He rode elephants over the mountains."

"People always remember the elephants." Mr. Wednesday swirled the wine in his glass and took a long, appreciative sip. "Barcus ran such a terrifying campaign that Roman mothers would tell their little Roman children to be good, or Hannibal would get them. Even today, if an unwanted guest is coming, they'll say, 'Hannibal is at the gates'." Wednesday breathed deep of the gourmet smells wafting through the room and sighed. "Now _that's_ staying power."

"No one says that in America."

Wednesday shrugged. "Maybe not. But everyone knows about the bogeyman."

Before Shadow could ask what he meant, there was a polite smattering of applause as their host entered.

Hannibal Lecter was an impressive man. He was tall, and lean, and moved with a dancer's grace. His suit was exquisitely tailored (Mr. Nancy had taught Shadow some taste) and he walked with a spring in his step.

"Thank you for coming," he said, addressing the room. "I hope this will give us all a chance to get reacquainted."

Shadow watched as Hannibal moved through the room, shaking hands and speaking pleasantries. Each person he spoke to looked charmed, a little brighter, eating the proffered hours d'oeuvres with a little more gusto.

"Hey," Mr. Wednesday gave his empty glass to a passing cater-waiter. "I'm gonna go take a leak. Make yourself comfortable. Schmooze a little."

Shadow did not schmooze well. He got his glass topped off by a smiling person in a vest, then went to wait by a far wall.

He wasn't alone.

"Hello," said the stranger.

The man looked ill at ease, but calm enough back in the shadows. He wasn't dressed any worse than the other guests, but he didn't shine like they did.

"Hello," Shadow gave a curt nod. "Shadow Moon."

"Will Graham," Will gave Shadow a wry smile. "Is this your first time at one of Hannibal's soirees?"

Shadow smiled back. "Are they always like this?"

"Consistency, if not predictability, is a hallmark of courtesy," said a smooth voice over Shadow's shoulder.

Hannibal stood there with a magnanimous smile on his angular face. He held a wineglass in each hand. The right, he reached past Shadow to hand to Will.

"I don't believe we've met."

"He is my associate." Mr. Wednesday had returned from wherever he'd been and was chewing something from off of a cocktail napkin. He waved to Hannibal as he approached, finishing off the morsel and wiping his mouth with the napkin.

"Velnias," Hannibal's smile was implacable. "It has been a long time."

"Too long." Mr. Wednesday grinned his monkey's grin. "I trust you already know why I'm here."

Hannibal inclined his head. "I do. And I am afraid I must disappoint you."

"You haven't even heard my terms."

"I hear more than you think." Hannibal's eyes flashed, and for a moment they almost looked red. Will glanced from one to the other of them, but said nothing.

"Come now," Mr. Wednesday lowered his voice, just a little. "We could use you in this fight."

"I know you could. But I have no stake in this. You are all alike, _Wednesday_." Shadow could hear the sneer in his voice. "Every one of you lives hand to mouth. The old gods, the new, their time will come and go. But fear," Hannibal's eyes glinted, "Fear is forever."

Before Mr. Wednesday could respond, Hannibal gave another nod, and put an easy hand on Will's shoulder. "Gentlemen. You must excuse me. I'll not have Mr. Graham hiding here all night."

Wednesday waited until they were gone, then hissed through his teeth.

" _Parables_ ," he muttered with contempt. "They think they own the world."

"Are we leaving, then?"

"You're damn right we are. No point hanging around just to eat crow."

 

***

_A thing shaped like a man was standing there. His eyes were a bright and terrible red, and his clothes were black and slick as oil. His long fingers wrapped around their throats._

_"You've been terribly rude," he said, and inside his mouth, past his sharp, sharp teeth, there was only fire. "What's to be done about that?"_

 

_***_

"He wasn't as bad as some of the others."

"You haven't seen his basement."

"What's down there?"

"It's less a 'what' and more of a 'who,' at least so far. You didn't eat anything, did you?"

"No, now that you mention it. I didn't get a chance."

"Good. The old man's gotten classier, but his tricks haven't changed. That's more of a 'who,' too."

"What about Will?"

"I wasn't here for him. He's got bigger fish to fry."

The two of them left the house and went out into the night. Will watched them from a window, accompanied by a large black shape with dark red eyes.

 

***

_All evidence of Mischa Lecter's passage would be lost when the records burned in 1897. She would be a nameless, faceless victim, lost to the short-sightedness of men. But the man who was Hannibal would never forget her._


End file.
